Think of Shahid Afridi and you think of comic book heroes, though on more occasions than not he appears as a real life spoof of our favourite spandexed brigades than the great saviour fighting against all odds; a blundering combine of Spider Man, Superman, Batman et al.

Almost all the time, we see him fly off to the rescue, only to smash into a wall as he mistimes a leap 100 storeys high or punches a victim while tackling the kidnapping villain. Perhaps the title of Captain Pakistan suits Shahid Afridi, especially now that he is, in effect, back on the lead horse.

Or can he be counted as the man from history, the Robin Hood of the entertainment-starved poor in a world dominated by the sheriffs of Islamabad? Is he the moody Achilles of Pakistan cricket who is called for when all else fails despite the knowledge that he has scant respect for his employers, fights alone within the charging army and places self actualisation before the team role written for him? Except perhaps, that he leaves the poor or the employers in no greater comfort more often than not. Once again he is less the real thing and more the imagined legend. As a wag would quip, he is the only cricketer dangerous for both sides.

Let’s take a closer look at Shahid Afridi, who captains Pakistan for the first T20 against Australia today ... He leads, he bites, he blows kisses, and he remains irresistible — Shahid Afridi could have been Mario Balotelli in disguise.

So who, or perhaps what, is Shahid Afridi? Why is it that a man who is so callously willing to throw his wicket in a fit of bat rage from the first ball he faces can be the one who fills the stadia in local games and empties it upon his dismissal?

Who is he who has a cult following that rivals that of rock stars or cine celebrities? Indeed, he divides a nation and households; someone who polarises opinion of his values and abilities no less than a certain Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto did or Imran Khan does today? You either love him or hate him.

To understand him one has to become the psychiatrist played by Billy Crystal in Analyse This/That who tries to harness Robert De Niro’s impulsive angst and his excruciating inner conflict, and all when the man himself demands that he be accepted for who he is. See the movie and you’ll get the picture; except the challenge here is more complex than straightening out the mafia don and more akin to unravelling the concept of The Matrix.

If you ask the doctor to give it to you straight, he’ll tell you that Shahid Afridi is an entertainer first and a performer second. The sooner you accept it, the quicker you treat your blood pressure. He is the embodiment of the modern game, where the audience is as dispassionate about the romantics of the game as the baying crowd shouting for blood in the Colosseum. Human values are for the old fashioned, the weak-hearted.

Shahid’s entry into international cricket sealed his brand; a 37-ball hundred against Sri Lanka in 1996 that transformed his role in the side from a leg spinner to a power-hitting all rounder. He was 16 then, an age where you feel that you can change the world singlehandedly and that all who try and tell you otherwise are holding you back into their own inefficiencies, their primal fears, their obtuse pessimism. When this stage of your life is coupled with a type ‘A’ individual it is a Molotov cocktail.

That lethal mixture has since been exploding not just on the cricket fields but in dressing rooms, Chairmen’s suites, selection meetings and in front of the media. He comes with the paradoxical tag ‘Robust: handle with care’ and those interacting with him, let alone confronting him, disregard that at their peril. Since the past 18 years, Afridi is, and has made aware that he is, his own man; that the world must bend to understand where he is coming from. The sooner the selectors, captain, management, fellow players, spectators recognise that, the better it is for them.

His volatile approach has over the years tempted his captains to push him up to open, erroneously assuming that his firepower is in sync with his mind power. That perhaps destroyed him as a batsman where more pragmatically thinking strategists channelled similar types like Andrew Symonds and recently Corey Anderson (who broke Afridi’s fastest century record) to become more effective in the nascent stage.

He has walked out of Test cricket at the drop of a hat when he had a batting average of 36.51 and a strike rate of 86.91 for his 1700-plus runs which included five hundreds in 27 Tests and continued to play in limited-overs format (perhaps because it is suited more to his limited patience level with pace of play) where he is perhaps the only cricketer to have reached over 7,500 runs with an average of less than 25 with six hundreds in 381 games. He did so, saying that he feels limited-over games are more his forte. Analyse that!

There is something about Shahid they will say. In mid play, he has abused Harbhajan for no apparent reason yet thrown a kiss at Gautum Gambhir. He has bitten a cricket ball trying to beat 26 cameras catching him in the act, swivelled in the middle of a cricket pitch with his spikes assuming cameras are off during overs, yet fights for integrity in the game.

He recognises no authority but himself and demands control over his destiny. It took a notification from the PCB to halt his continuously impulsive and immediate referrals to DRS when appeals were turned down off his own bowling, with scant regard for skipper Misbah who is the sole authority to decide.

He is a ‘man obsessed’ to be seen as the best in his trade. He can’t stand being outshined, no matter what humility he propagates. In the very first IPL in the spring of 2008 he had to make a delayed entry for the Deccan Chargers as Pakistan hosted Bangladesh. When in the opening match Brendon McCullum pummeled 158 off 73 balls for Kolkata Knight Riders, Afridi’s first reaction from home was that he would better that the moment he went over. To the dismay of Deccan Chargers and captain VVS Laxman, Afridi spent the entire tournament in a fit of heave-ho off the very first ball in every game despite orders to quit his maverick style. Some US $675,000 spent by Deccan Chargers on purchasing him went waste with every slapstick dismissal of his within minutes of walking in. He was shunned from the team near the end of the tournament.

Many therefore wonder how a man with such multiple vicissitudes can be given a leadership role. But it cannot be denied that Shahid Afridi is a brave man; admittedly reckless but nevertheless resolute. He has a simplistic plan which is basically to forge ahead and see what holds forth. Like Imran Khan, he values those who give their hundred per cent and youngsters in the team look up to him because he stands up for them, protects them from their own devils and gives them a clear message that like him, they should not be afraid to lose.

In doing that he has captured the essence of leadership; self belief. Many fault him for letting down the team but forget that in the 2011 World Cup he time and again singularly rescued his side with his bowling; without him they would not have reached the semi-finals. And there his self control on the field as five catches went down, showed an unrecognised maturity. A year earlier he had bent down to console a near weeping Saeed Ajmal after he had conceded some 20 odd runs in the last over to lose the semi-final of the World Twenty20 where Pakistan were defending champions. How many captains would do that?

Though the game makes him who he is, Afridi has travelled beyond cricket now. This has become his pastime. Do not watch him as a cricketer. If you try and make sense of what he does and why he does what he does, and how it relates to what is happening on the cricket field, you are eligible for a noble prize if you succeed. He is cricket’s Mario Balotelli long before the Italian and ex-Man City, ex-Inter and now Liverpool striker makes coaches bang their heads against walls.

As such, it might be simpler to recount an incident that happened once with Jose Mourinho which should help explain what happens with Afridi:

“I remember one time when we went to play Kazan in the Champions League. In that match I had all my strikers injured. No Diego Milito, no Samuel Eto’o, I was really in trouble and Mario was the only one.

“Mario got a yellow card in the 42nd minute, so when I got to the dressing room at half-time I spent about 14 minutes of the 15 available speaking only to Mario.

“I said to him: ‘Mario, I cannot change you, I have no strikers on the bench, so don’t touch anybody and play only with the ball. If we lose the ball no reaction. If someone provokes you, no reaction, if the referee makes a mistake, no reaction.’

“The 46th minute – red card!”

That for you is Shahid Afridi. But unlike Balotelli, he does not work under a regime but rather anxious administrators who let him do his thing. Perhaps it is for the better, for they themselves have failed to instil a system of sense and sensibility that mentors youngsters. In Pakistan cricket, it takes a mindset that is Shahid Afridi to harness the negatives into a winning situation. This is why he roams the fields like a wild stallion, proud of his independence and appealing to those who wish to be free of the mundane.

The writer is a business consultant and a former CEO and board member. He is an author and cricket writer by choice for over 30 years and has served as editor of Asian edition of The Cricketer International, UK.

Published in Dawn, Sunday Magazine, October 5th, 2014